Throbbing pains coursed through my body, jolting me awake. My black and blue throat twitched as I gasped for air. I was groaning and groggy, only able to push short and shallow breaths through my swollen throat. My bruised chest stung as the cold air filled my lungs. Gashes seeped across my body with each breath, causing my eyes to bulge open from pain. A harsh, blinding light seared my mana-infused eyes, forcing them to close again. What? A blinding light? In the Luna Forest? Welp, I’m dead. But I was in fact, not. Whether that was a blessing or a curse was another question.
Dispelling the mana saturating my pupils, I reopened my eyes cautiously to the harsh, blinding light, using my right arm to cover my eyes. The brightness that branded my retinas slowly faded into a glossy light blue and black blur. The light blue sat above the black, with blotches of white splayed sporadically within, forming odd and unnatural shapes. Three different breeds of birds flew by in the distance, singing a happy little chirp whilst flying clumped together. The leftmost birds had a mixture of black and white feathers. Their beaks were elongated, arching to below their chest, and had skinny legs that grew twice the length of their body. The middle had mainly red feathers with only a strip of royal purple visibly running down its stomach. Its beak was pink and stubby, protruding barely an inch away from its head. The rightmost lacked feathers but instead had luxurious, long flowing, emerald green fur. Their legs were as thick as timber, talons were sharper than even my blades, with narrow, sharp beaks. I didn’t know the breed of the other two birds, but those furry ones were called Harpies. Thankfully, they were far away. I wasn’t about to start fisticuffs with a flock of them, even though I’d win.
A light breeze rolled in, blowing cold wind through my clothes, making the gaping holes in my garments apparent. The refreshing cold breeze helped recalibrate my brain. My conscious mind unlocked like fitting a key into its hole. Neurons fired on all cylinders, blasting the past few minutes’ memories back into place; the trolls, the mysterious roots and their peculiar retreat. Standing there, heavy in thought, my body began aching. Blood flowed down my sides, dried blood saturated my tunic, but it was no matter. Nothing a simple healing potion couldn’t fix. I reached down, grasping at my belt loop and pulled up an empty bottle with a cork lid. Right, the poison. Placing the bottle back in the loop, I glanced down to see that no healing potion hung on my loops. For a second, mass panic set in. Sweat ran down my body, my jaw locked in place as my whole body froze. My mind raced to catch up to the events that unfolded to remember myself drinking the potion, then getting flung into the air and ending up here, battered and bruised again.
That healing potion cost nearly all my kol. To think that right after its use I landed back in an injured state… Ignoring my screaming body and collapsing mental state, I turned my attention back to my surroundings like any intelligent person would do in my situation. The blackness that laid beneath me led all the way to the horizon in every direction. They were the same leaves from the Stygian trees, yet they seemed different from above. When looking up, the leaves were like spear heads, with netlike veins running through them. But up here, they seemed more like water lilies, overlapping one another to leave no gaps for sun to seep through. The leaves when I ran past them were rough and prickly. Its scraping across my skin left it with little slashes, but these lilies were soft, fussy and damp. Running my hand across it tickled, like I was grabbing a cloud.
The lilies rustled against my body as I rolled around on it; it was painful, but worth it. The rustling turned to vibrations as a loud thud repeatedly rang out from below. Maybe the trolls will give up soon? A light sigh pushed itself out from my swollen throat. I stayed in the moment for longer than I should have, trying to draw one final deep breath of fresh air before I returned to the putrid stench below. Another thud against the tree reverberated through the leaves, jolting through my body. Definitely not surrendering. Slowly getting up, I removed my belt and emptied my bags and pockets across the canopy floor.
Staring at my pile of crap, a problem was apparent, no bloody weapons. No daggers, no arrows, hell, not even a stick. This was bad, my eyes were glancing over everything yet finding nothing of use. Empty parchment and half made maps were the most apparent, littering the canopy. What was I going to do with those though, papercut them to death? Killing them by overloading their brains with geography? That could work actually. Maybe breaking the glass bottles would have worked ignoring the size and shape, but merchants got annoyed if you lived and don’t return the bottles to reuse. There were only two items in the dump I made which were truly standing out, the best of the rest, my father’s quill and my lockpick. My father’s quill was made of a griffon's feather and was the only thing I had left of him, so I wasn’t about to use that for some measly trolls. This left me with my weapon, the lockpick. The lockpick was long and slim, as expected. It was extremely rusted at this point as it was gifted to me by my teacher, Mrs. Moksav, about nine years ago. I don’t know if she’d be laughing or dumbstruck at what I was about to do with it.
Blood curdling roars rung out from below as I shoved my equipment back into my bag and pouches, scrunching up papers, tossing in ink pots, and clicking potion bottles back on my belt. Refitting everything to my belt then myself, with the lockpick now clutched tightly in my grasp, I began scouring the canopy for an opening to make my way back down. There had to be one, overwise how’d I get up there? Worse came to worst, I could make my own though, I’m sure the forest would love that.
My nails dug into my hands through my leather gloves, unable to see a darker hole through the dark canopy. My breathing grew unsteady, my eyes looked for something that wouldn’t appear, so I closed them. The wind rustled into my ears. My breathing grew louder, echoing through my ears, closing out those rustling winds and the roars of the trolls. The deep breaths tingled, cold air ran up and down my throat, being the only noise present to me. My breathing stopped almost automatically, and I could hear the quiet roars from the trolls. The canopy shuttered with each roar, sending shivers up my spine. Walking slowly, the quiet roars began to boom, reaching a point where it felt like I was standing in front of them again, like their deep breaths blew against my face, clinging to me and pushing me backwards. My eyes shot open to see a black hole carved open below.
My hands trembled as I loomed, the leaves now felt unsteady, like I could slip down at any moment. My heart was racing as an obvious question had remained oblivious to me, but now reared its head in my mind. How do I get down? No action came to mind, my mana had restored slightly, but using it for a descent would have been extremely dangerous. The endless void began glaring at me, mocking me. It knew nothing could be done, that I was doomed to spend eternity above or fall to my death below. My throat started to dry, my eyes grew wider, my mind was becoming trapped in the void. The darkness started to overtake it, fogging it. This is stupid, leaping down with a lockpick, who do I think I am? What would I do, use a slashing spell? The lockpick’s just going to shatter on impact as soon as it hits skin. My trembling legs wandered backwards; my mind still lost in the void even with it moving out of sight. My whole body trembled, unable to overcome this spell, I couldn’t possibly do something so stupid, so dangerous.
A noise rang out from the hole. This was no roar; it didn’t shake the trees themselves. It was slight, quieter than a whisper and it froze me in my tracks. This couldn’t have been what I thought it was. Then it rang again. From within the abyss the sound of metal clanging against something rang through. The tremors in my body seized, my goosebumps dissipated, and a small grin brewed. The noise came again, there was no mistaking what it was. Before I released, my legs were moving, running towards the black abyss, and with a leap I shot through that hole headfirst.
Plummeting towards the invisible ground at breakneck speeds, the air pushed against my body slowing me down. This wasn’t fast enough, I had too much resistance. I tightened my body together to form the shape of a pin, my head pointed straight down. My eyes were struggling to adjust to not only the newly found darkness, but the forceful winds blowing into them. The sound of the whistling wind flying past blocked my ears, making the clanging metal fall silent. Being unaware of how far from the ground I was, where the trolls were, and what was making that noise should have had me fearing for my life and safety. Yet my smile kept growing larger across my face. My body was shaking, adrenaline pumping, the hairs across my body were standing on end. This is what I live for.
A familiar stench invaded my nostrils the further I fell. Oh Maria, please don’t puke. Past the whistling winds in my ears, a troll's bellow pierced through. This wasn’t a roar of hunger like before, it was more like a cry from pain. Sparks of all colours flickered out from within the darkness, highlighting the two trolls attacking. One was smashing their club against something smaller and metallic looking, and the other was swinging at the air as a burst of light crashed into its shoulder. A few seconds passed before the thunderous sounds of a gong erupted into my ears, followed along by muffled voices. Finally, my eyes became singed once more and the secrets of the darkness opened to me.
Below me stood my four peers in the Griffin Flock fighting against those hideous trolls. Boris stood tall with his shield raised as the trolls attempted to push past with their clubs. His feet dug into the sludge as he bared his tusks, pushing his shield above his head in a swift motion, flinging the troll’s club into the air. From beneath his shield rushed a streak of metal along with long flowing blonde hair. With a long sword by their side and now being close to the trolls, Forland swung his shimmering blade towards the skies, slicing the troll’s leg open. Blood gushed from the troll’s open wound as it fell back, giving ample space for the other troll to swing down at Forland. With its club raised, Forland stood watching, his sword raised by his side. The troll’s swing barely made it halfway as Sylv raised her birch staff. Lightning came crashing down beside me, MARIA THAT WAS CLOSE, and struck the tip of her staff. The lightning spattered from the green emerald that was trapped inside the birch cocoon, before she pointed it towards the troll. The lightning shot out as fast as it came, crashing into the troll’s side, sending it stumbling to the floor with its arm burning. Forland went to rush in as done before, but the other troll had recovered and swung towards him. Forland quickly rushed back, nearly slipping in the mud, and with a leap, the club clashed with Boris’s shield again, making another gong sound. Alistanna twirled her stone-like staff and pointed it towards Forland. A humming glow emanated him, he slowly rose from the dirt, nodded to Alistanna and turned back to the battle.
Alistanna turned around, looked straight at me, and shouted “What the hell is that?” She definitely shouted something, but it’s hard to tell from those distances. They all seemed to turn their heads to see what she was going on about, nearly causing them all to get squashed into the mud, but they got saved by a quick deflection from Boris’s shield. To show them it was me, I gave them a wave, wait. They can’t tell I’m waving… I’m an idiot.
With the trolls growing ever closer, I clenched onto my lockpick with both hands, interlocking my fingers and pulling it over the back of my head. The relentless wind rushed through my mouth as a wide grin rose on my face. This can work. Sure, it could. Using a glorified metal toothpick with a piercing attack, what could possibly go wrong. The wind rustled into the crevices of my grip, knocking the lockpick around within my clutches. My hands almost flailing, clutching to my makeshift blade at all cost, a halo dwindled around the tip of it. The halo grew wider and brighter by the second. It began morphing from a white glow to a musty orange, guiding the relentless wind from its path, stabilizing my hands. The halo continued to grow, slowly scaling up all sides of the blade, changing to a brighter orange the further it went. The glowing light stopped once it reached the spherical end of the lockpick, closing together in a bursting light, completely covering my makeshift blade in an orange glow. It was like a burning flame pressed against my palms, almost blistering my skin, nearly melting my flesh; it was like it had welded my hands with the tool for an impenetrable grip. My heart thumped like a drum, my mana continuously rushed through the tips of my fingers into the lockpick, cycling back and forth through my body, but it wasn’t enough.
The further down I fell the more apparent my distance from the trolls distance became. When I first saw them, they seemed to be just in front of me, barely an arm’s length away, but now they were at least 20 meters ahead. I was too far. I needed to move forward but I was plummeting down, moving too fast to reach that distance. Forland saw it, him and Boris were trying to push one of the trolls back towards me, the beacon of light, but they were also too late.
There had to be another way, a way to extend my attack, a way to teleport near them, just something to nudge me forward, just a little boost. My eyebrows rose as did a sickening smile. I took my left hand off of my lockpick and aimed it behind myself. All the yelling and roaring below became muffled, the clashing of metal softened as I closed my eyes. My breathing slowed as the air ran through my nose, down to my lungs, and out my mouth. My left hand hung loose to my side, the sweat rolling down my fingertips and then taken by the breeze rushing against it. The mana sweltering in my right hand, concentrated on the blade, seeped back down my blood stream, coursing down my arm, though my back, all the way down to my left hand, then ran back up, constantly relaying itself. The mana at the tips of my left-hand sizzled underneath my skin before igniting and bursting through onto my fingertips. They formed a line above all five of my fingertips, swirling around into each other, spinning into a red and orange scorching hot ball of flames that was half the size of me. It was only a Kiln Fireball, but it was enough. I swung my head aside, facing the fireball, and aimed it at the closest tree. The word tickled my lips, craving to be left loose, all the muscles in my body tightened. The mana in my blood halted, the air filled my lungs, my heart stopped it’s thumping. From the depths of my lungs, a deafening roar came out. “FIREBALL!” I cried.
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One blink was all it took. Before I closed my eyes, the warmth of the fireball wrapped around my hand, lighting the area surrounding me and nearly blinding me. Then when my eyes closed, the warmth left my hand, slowly fading away with the light. And when they reopened, a blast of flashing light covered my backside, a ringing stung my ears, and my body began to move. My neck snapped back in a moment of whiplash from the shockwave. The troll who grew stagnant was coming towards me fast, faster than it should have been able to. The skin on my face was being pulled back, my eyes barely staying open to see everything blur past me. All control over my body was forfeited as it started to spin in circles of its own volition. Nothing was able to come to mind, it was all pushed back thanks to the velocity. My lockpick, which sat barely inches away from my face, had morphed into just another blur with sparks sizzling from its tip. It was erupting. The orange colour from my pick had spread over me, turning me into my own fireball, encompassing me in my own cocoon. Everything was just an orange blur now. No noise pierced my still ringing ears, no smell radiated near me, only a slight tingling sensation wrapped around my body. There was no way to tell the distance between the troll and I anymore, but I had come too far. The bones in my arm cracked and its joints popped as I pushed my pick forward, stretching out my arm to its maximum reach. Spinning faster, moving quicker, my arm held firm as little shards sliced inside of it, shooting pain all around it. My cries rang out yet were buried, even to me, behind the rushing of winds and the echoing sounds of the explosion.
My eyes closed and reopened again, my body slowed through the air, the orange surrounding me slowly evaporated around me, becoming replaced by a dense dark red all around me, but mostly above. No troll stood in front of me, had I missed? It didn’t really matter as I descended once more. I was mere feet from the ground, there was nothing that was castable with that distance. “Bellowing Winds!” A higher pitched voice called out in a panic from below. A quick and precise force smacked into my back, launching me back up two feet before I came crashing back down to the dirt with a splash and a thud.
My right arm ached; my neck pinched as I pushed it up from the ground. Smiling, I looked over to my group and said in cheerful way, “Hey guys, what too-.” A rush of warm liquid crashed against my body cutting me off. My head smashed back down into the muck, resulting in dirt slipping into my open mouth. My arms stung once more from pushing myself back up. A rotten metallic scent wafted under my nose, shrivelling my face. Looking around, buckets upon buckets of crimson liquid and odd-looking grey things had crashed and mixed with the mud beneath, catching me in the crossfire. The muscles in my neck tensed, which annoyingly pinched my neck once more. “What did I just get drenched in?” I said tensely; my head barely holding in the steam boiling over. The liquid continued to patter on top of my head as I waited for my answer. A few seconds later, the answer came as a loud thud rung out along with a shockwave from beneath the ground.
What did I expect this crimson liquid to be? Sap? To think I’ve gone from just being able to smell the wretched bastards, to now being covered in them. Just fan bloody tastic. Can’t wait to get home and spend two weeks cleaning this shit off. Just to find more of it later and START THE WHOLE BLOODY-
“Well, we were wondering where you had run off to.” Forland said, turning his attention to the other troll. “Enjoying your little bathing session?” He quipped with a half-hearted laugh. Oh, I’ll show you a bathing session. But there was no time too, vomit began pouring through my throat. Luckily, it wasn’t chunky. Hadn’t eaten much, so it was mostly murky water and troll bits that snuck their way inside.
Wobbling back upon my feet, legs shuddering as I stood, I glanced over to Forland and sarcastically retorted, “Not my fault you’re all so slow.” Gesturing to my new and bloody found surroundings, I continued, “Lucky I found something to keep myself preoccupied.”
Forland smirked, “I guess you’re right. And here I thought you had just lost a fight to some measly trolls.” Looking at me through the corner of his eyes, his smirk grew wider. “I guess you had just planned this great sneak attack all along.” He swayed his golden locks to the side to make sure I saw his smirking face. A growing knot caught in my throat, trying to push out, but I buried my head into my chest instead and let out a sigh. Jerk.
Forland turned his attention fully back to the lone troll. While its stature was big and imposing, its cries for what I presume was its partner, went unanswered. The troll’s grip tightened around its makeshift club. The handle splintered around the troll’s fingers; pieces of rotting bark slowly fell apart before the club broke completely. The debris plunged down towards us, flying around in all directions, leaving no spot safe from it. Boris quickly raised his shield above his head, seeing the oncoming debris, and called out in his deep voice, “Skydore.” All the surrounding debris lit up like festival lights. Thousands of sticks, bark and pieces of wood came crashing down onto his shield like rain in a storm.
The trolls raised fist came crashing at Boris, who was stuck in place blocking all the debris. Unable to move, he watched the troll’s fist come rocketing towards him, the hairs on his back stood on their ends. Forland rushed in front of Boris and held his shimmering iron blade tightly around its pristine golden handle, swinging it overhead into the path of the troll’s fist.
Perhaps irritated or bemused by our actions, the troll did not pull back, but instead let out a guttural roar. The speed of its descending fist grew faster, gaining more speed the closer it came, and its fist was aimed directly at Forland’s blade. Forlands eyes grew slightly wider while watching, his chest compressed slower, and his grip opened. The troll’s fist wasn’t diverting, swinging side to side, or pulling back. It was heading straight for his sword and he knew it. Forland bent his arms back above his head, his blade looming behind. The troll’s fist continued, branches snapped, and leaves flailed in its wake. Forland stood still, his chest no longer moving at all, focused on the oncoming fist. 50 meters, 40, 30, 20, 10. Forland’s sword swung above his head, his grip grew tighter the higher the sword rose. The veins in his hands visually bulged from the rushing blood underneath the skin. The fist collided. A shockwave of compressed air blew against us, with Forland stumbling back two steps; his blade lifting in the process. His hands shook as he pulled his blade back down into place. His arms continued to violently vibrate while holding the blade. Pushing against the troll’s fist, the sword slowly pierced through the troll’s thick hid. But the troll persisted, pushing its fist against it, specks of metal flicked from the blade like sparks. Forlands legs were planted firmly in place now, the gushing wind muted the sounds of his vibrating blade and his battle-cry. His face grew redder, his mouth hung wide, and his arms pushed forward. The blade started to move, from sitting against the hide, red seeped from within, down Forland’s blade. With one last push, the blade sliced through the skin and didn’t stop. Forland broke into a run, his somehow still shimmering blade continued slicing through arteries and muscle. The troll only now tried to pull its arm away, but it was too late, the roots had returned and wrapped themselves back around its fingers, pulling it down. Forland continued his run, the troll stumbled forward, now using its other hand to try and pull free. The troll leaned in closer, its mouth hanging open in an attempt to eat Forland whole. But Forland simply pulled his sword back from within the troll’s arm as it leaped towards him, missing him, and leaving its neck wide open to Forland. Forland quickly manoeuvred his body and lifted his blade above his head. The tip gleamed from the little hole of sun shining upon it. The blade’s whistling swing brought a near silence to the forest. A final heavy breath left the troll before its body stopped struggling, with blood slowly seeping out and encroaching on the muddy path.
Completely engrossed in the ongoing battle, Slyv, who was standing on my side, had gone unnoticed. Her words were drowned out by the banging and clanging of Forland’s blade and Boris’s shield. Even after it ended, she stood unnoticed. Forland looked down at his shimmering iron armour and crimson cape, realising specks of blood and dirt had beseeched them. But at last, I finally noticed her. “Bellowing Winds!” A rush of wind came crashing from my side, sending me flying into one of the nearby trees with a thud.
Everything around me slanted. The smallest movement swayed my head to the opposite side as the throbbing pains set in. “Ow.” Slyv and Alistanna both burst into laughter, Forland chuckled into his hand, and Boris sighed, shaking his head. What’s so funny? When trying to get up, it became apparent. My gelatinous legs quivered with each inch I rose, barely staying mobile. Trying to take a step, my legs quickly and unsurprisingly gave way, sending me toppling backwards into the tree. Their laughter grew louder, something now sat on my forehead. Opening my eyes, a poppy hovered over them. It had landed on my head, twice.
Slyv leisurely wandered over to my sprawled-out body, hanging herself over it. “Welp, blood’s off ya.” She proudly stated. Her freckled hollow cheeks stretched back as she smiled at me. She unnecessarily swayed her short, violet hair aside, staring down into my eyes. “Hey. Are you alright?” She asked, her voice quivering.
My head throbbed harder, pushing against the back of my skull. Any form of thought felt like a blade was being pushed and dragged across it. “Sure.” I slowly spoke with my voice croaking. I mean, I was pretty much fine. Nothing to worry about.
“Normally that white?” Boris asked in his deep, shy voice.
“No, but the blood spouting out of his head’s pretty normal.” Alistanna lied. It wasn’t that often, just like every third day.
“Taros. Are you alright?” Forland called out while flicking his sword from side to side, flinging the blood from his blade. “Can. You. Hear. Us?” He asked slowly, emphasising each word as if I was knocking at death’s door. He pulled his sword up close to his face as he waited for my answer, gradually analysing for any specks of blood left. I rolled my eyes.
Forland started walking over to me. His rondels with a griffon insignia on them clanged against his iron chest plate with each step, transforming this fierce knight into an overgrown dinner bell. The noise travelled down the forest, followed by the howling of wolves. Reaching the rest of the group, he stopped and reached down into his boot, pulling out a red handkerchief. Methodically, he wiped down his armour of any blood or remains, then, flipping the handkerchief, wiped his sword down. He stood for a moment longer, repeatedly tapping his metal foot into a muddy puddle. I slowly raised my left hand and gave him a thumbs up. “Damn. What a shame.” He sarcastically spat out. The group stifled their laughter as my thumb flipped to a finger.
I laid down for a few seconds longer. Forland’s face squinted, his foot still tapping the puddle. “Do you need a hand?” he asked.
I laid in the mud for a few more seconds, feeling the aching of my body and throbbing from my head. “I haven’t decided yet.” I replied, “Do you?”
“What do you mean you haven’t deci-.” Forland stammered his words. “Wait, what do you mean do I?” He scrunched up his face and his eyes became slits from pondering my question.
Alistanna chuckled to his side, deciding to join in on the fun. “You missed a spot.” She chuckled.
“What?” Forland was taken aback. “Missed a spot? I don’t- DAMNIT!” He shouted. To his disbelief, a tiny speck of blood still clung to his armour. We all burst into a fit of laughter. Forland spat on the tiny speck and rigorously scrubbed it with his handkerchief until it shone brighter than he first bought it. He began mumbling something about inconsiderate trolls. Some knight.
The fit of laughter slowly died out, and with it left my adrenaline. Like an avalanche, everything came crashing down at once. The throbbing pain from my head pushed against my skull so hard, I felt it would splinter. My muscles all over ached from my singeing cuts slathered in mud. My bones felt brittle, one wrong move felt like they’d snap into two. I tried to ask a question, anything to stop thinking about the pain, but my words minced together and just created a load of unintelligible gibberish. My ears started ringing, vision started fading, and I no longer felt the mud surrounding my body.
“Oh Maria.” Forland chuckled, dinging again from the movement. “Hey Boris, are you alright to carry him?” He swiped his cape aside and gestured in my direction. Boris started to waddle over to me, and I tried to wave him away, I don’t need anyone’s help. But my arm stayed dormant. Boris continued, his belly bobbing along with the circular metal armour that hung around his torso. His giant plump body blocked the lights from my eyes, much like the forest, as he stood over me. His head sized tusks hid his eyes gaze from view, but his smile was always present. I grinded my teeth as his furry hands reach down towards me. His hands touched my shoulders and legs, and I turned my head away from his. He seemed unbothered by it. Heaving me up from the dirt, he swung me over his shoulder like I was just a sack of bozkt vegetables from the Monulume market, ghastly things. My chest crashed hard into his shoulder armour with an audible crunch, yet none of the others seemed to take heed. Air escaped my lungs just before my head whacked into the front of Boris’s shield he had slung across his back. The little light in the forest dispersed from my eyes. The quiet chatter I could hear between the group was no longer audible, leaving me in alone in darkness.